A Soldier's Conscience
by Bess the Bard
Summary: Ronon has to deal with the consequences of his decision to kill Kell. **Spoilers for Trinity**
1. Chapter 1

Ronon Dex suppressed the urge to squirm in the molded plastic chair. Much too small to hold his 6 foot 4 inch muscled frame, it seemed a subtly calculated torture in itself, a tactic he would not put past the ones in charge of this tribunal. But fidgeting conveyed weakness and Ronon Dex never showed weakness to an enemy.

"State your name and planet of origin for the record," the amplified voice of the interrogator boomed into the small locked room in which Ronon awaited judgment.

"You know who I am!" Ronon retorted. "You have no right to keep me here." He threw himself out of the chair and paced the room, his long legs closing its distance in two strides. He felt naked without his weapons but he had been completely disarmed before his placement in this secure chamber. Not only his energy pistol but each and every one of the knives secreted about his person had been located and removed. The guards had been very thorough; he vaguely regretted the younger one's broken arm but nobody had ever looked for that particular knife before.

"State your name and planet of origin for the record," the unseen voice repeated, unmoved by his outburst.

Ronon swung around to face the camera high in the corner of his cell. He made a rude gesture, one he'd learned from Shepherd--the duck--no, the bird. He knew it accomplished nothing but it did make him feel better, just like Shepherd said it would.

"State your name and planet of origin for the record," said the interrogator for the third time.

"Alright!" Ronon cried. Maybe he if he answered a few questions, his captors would share some information he could use to his advantage and get out of here. "Ronon Dex, of Sateda. But you already know that."

"Ronon Dex of the planet Sateda, do you deny visiting the planet Belkan approximately 12 months ago?" The voice might have asked if he'd eaten breakfast that day, for all the inflection it carried.

"No." Ronon gritted out. He'd known this moment would come.

He was just surprised it had taken so long.

* * *

_The tavern was no worse and perhaps a bit better than many he'd been in over the last several years. His regret over ruining Teyla's trade negotiation by threatening the Belkan leader Hendon at knifepoint receded in the face of news that there might be another Satedan survivor right here in this inn! _

_Maybe he wasn't alone, after all._

_He followed Teyla up the stairs. His gut felt tight and prickly, the way it sometimes did before a battle. Someone was talking, in the cadence of one telling a story in which the narrator is the hero. _

"_Was I afraid? Course I was! But my people were counting on me."_

_The voice and the tale were familiar. Could it really be…?_

"_Now, I was alone, and I was low on ammo, but I managed to take out the three Wraith guards and gain access to their ship."_

_It __**was**__ Solen! How could this be? Ronon felt a solar flare of joy burst inside, but kept his expression grim. He would not let Solen go unchallenged._

_"Liar!" Ronon charged. All sound and movement in the tavern ceased. Teyla tensed beside him but he didn't care. Solen jumped up to face his accuser, but gave an astonished grin when he saw who it was._

"_Ronon?!" Solen cried._

"_There were two Wraith guarding that cruiser and he wasn't alone," Ronon corrected his friend, then swept him up in a giant bear hug. He introduced Solen Sincha, his former comrade, to Teyla. _

_Then he said quietly, seven years of solitude in his voice. "For years I believed I was the only survivor."_

_"So you don't know about the others?" Solen said._

_Ronon jerked as if struck. "What others?"_

* * *

"And did you, while in the company of Teyla Emmagan, plot the ambush and assault of one Kell of Sateda?" Again, the voice was toneless but the words exploded on Ronon like an Ancient drone.

He leapt up at the camera mounted in the corner but it was far too high, even for him. "You leave Teyla out of this! She had nothing to do with it," he snarled. "If anything happens to her, there'll be no hole deep enough to hide from me!"

"The complicity of Teyla Emmagan, if any, will be determined in a separate proceeding," the interrogator intoned, responding directly to him for the first time. "This hearing concerns your actions, the result of which will directly impact the outcome of hers."

"Why should I have to answer to you?" Ronon shouted. "You don't know anything!" He slumped against the wall and leaned his head back. "You weren't there," he whispered to the glaring lights that never went out. "You weren't there."

* * *

"_There are others, Ronon." Solen laughed, eager to impart such good news. "Before the city fell, a few of us managed to make it to the shelters west of the capital. Over three hundred civilians found their way there too. When we emerged, we realized there was nothing to salvage, so we left -- all of us."  
_  
_"Where?" Teyla asked the question Ronon was too stunned to form._

_Solen shrugged. "Some came here, some went to Manaria …"_

_"Three hundred," Ronon murmured, and then he smiled, his grim face transformed by pure joy._

_Solen nodded and handed his friend a tankard. "Drink, Ronon, and rejoice -- you're not alone!"_

* * *

"This is a duly constituted tribunal formed under proper legal authority," said the interrogator. "The questioning will continue."

"I don't care about your questions," Ronon said stonily. "Whatever it is you say I did, it's true."

"So you admit that you are responsible for the death of Kell of Sateda?" The interrogator said. Ronon did not answer. "You admit you killed the victim so named?" the voice insisted.

"Yes!" Ronon cried finally. "I admit it. So what? I'd do it again!"

"Ronon Dex of Sateda," said the interrogator. "Based on your own testimony as well as other information received, this tribunal finds sufficient evidence to bind you over for judgment on the pre-meditated murder of Kell of Sateda."

If he was a murderer, he might as well act like one. Ronon seized the cursed chair and flung it at the camera and the invisible speaker. This time he connected and there was a satisfying shower of sparks amid the sounds of a mechanical death rattle. But, as Dr. McKay would say, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Ronon heard a high-pitched whine from a shallow depression that appeared in the wall. "Oh, shi--," he muttered, before falling unconscious to the floor.

Ronon dreamed.

* * *

_Ronon and Solen celebrated their reunion in true Satedan style, by getting thoroughly drunk. Ronon saw a strange expression slide over Solen's face. Solen probably thought he looked cagey but Ronon thought his friend looked as if he had been stunned lightly with a rock. Ronon waited in bleary anticipation but never expected what Solen said next. _

_**Kell was alive**. _

_More than alive, Kell had saved his own family from the destruction of Sateda and become a wealthy arms trader on Belsa. Truly, there was no justice; no god who saw that the good were protected and the evil were punished. Kell was alive, when millions were dead; when Ronon's own unit spent their last drop of blood in a useless sortie just so Kell could run away. _

_Kell, Ronon's own military taskmaster from the time he was a green recruit of seventeen. Ronon admired him as only the hero-worshipping young can; made excuses for his brutality and greed until he could face his mentor no longer. In his early days of being a runner, cold and starving, hiding like an animal, Ronon had few pleasures. One he cherished was a fierce satisfaction that at least, Kell had been consumed in the holocaust the Wraith visited upon Sateda. But now he knew. All that time, Kell had been alive._

_Ah, well. Nothing lasts forever._

* * *

Ronon woke up on the floor of his cell, with a massive post-stun headache. He suppressed a moan. Silent and still as if he remained unconscious, he felt all his extremities. Good. He seemed unharmed and, despite his temper tantrum, unrestrained.

A tray of food had been pushed through a small slot at the base of the door. Ronon, hungry despite the headache and dizziness, inspected the meal. A hefty sandwich, fruit and cheese, with water in a thin cup. The water tasted metallic but at least there was enough food to keep his large frame going. As a Runner, he'd eaten plenty worse.

He finished the last of the fruit and set the tray down beside him. He settled down on the floor to wait. The chair had been taken away--collateral damage or punishment, he wondered_._

Ronon closed his eyes, allowed his body to relax as he had learned to do in years as a Runner, when survival required silent concealment, as much as battle readiness. He cleared his mind and in a few moments passed into a stillness so intense it seemed to disturb the very air.

Soon, he would present a defense on his own terms_._


	2. Chapter 2

_Kell walked into the tavern, demanding to meet those with whom he would trade. Teyla had called in favors among her contacts to arrange this meeting. She suspected nothing and made polite greetings. Then Ronon stepped out from behind the stairs which had shielded him from view and spoke for the first time. His old taskmaster recognized him instantly, murmuring his name in surprise._

_"Hello, Kell," Ronon returned the greeting._

_He pulled out his hand, which was tucked inside his long duster. His blaster appeared. Without hesitation, Ronon shot Kell in the chest, killing him instantly. His old leader sprawled on the floor, looking a lot smaller in death than Ronon remembered._

_Kell's bodyguards surrounded Ronon, aiming their weapons. Teyla immediately joined Ronon, putting her back to him and holding up a knife in a vain attempt to protect herself from the soldiers' energy weapons._

_Her urgent questions rang in Ronon's ears but he did not answer. He recognized at least two of the men with Kell, had once served with them. They would not hurt Teyla but where was their loyalty when it came to Ronon Dex?_

_Ronon lowered his blaster and held out his hands to show the soldiers that he would not attempt to defend himself and spoke to them._

_"We all know who this man was, what he was." Ronon's eyes bore into those of his former comrades and spoke the words that tradition, and justice, demanded. "If anyone here believes he should be avenged, here I am."_

_The soldiers looked at each other for a moment, and then lowered their guns. Ronon left the tavern without another word._

_Outside the building, Ronon blinked in the brightness of the morning sun. Suddenly, Teyla caught up with him, slammed him against a wall and held her knife against his throat. He kept very still. Fury burned in her brown eyes._

_"You just used me to murder an innocent man!" She cried; the knife pressed a little bit closer._

_Ronon shifted quickly grabbed her hand and pushed her knife away. "He deserved worse," he grated._

_Teyla persisted in her need to know what had just happened. Ronon sighed. He had used her connections on Belkan to set up Kell and had just executed the man in front of her. She'd earned an explanation._

_"Kell commanded several infantry divisions on Sateda, and when the Wraith came, he ordered thousands to their death just to save himself." Ronon's voice hardened. "He was ... he was a traitor and a coward. My only regret is that his death was quick."_

Ronon could only gauge time passing by the meals delivered to the slot in his door at decidedly irregular intervals. Seven meals now; the "morning" one of fruit and an aromatic cheese. The other meals varied between sandwiches or cut up meat with fruit or vegetables on the side. The food required no utensils. Drinks were served in flimsy cups that experience taught he had to be careful not to grip too hard or risk a wet lap. No cleverly improvised weapons to be made here.

His chair was never returned, but a thin sleeping mat had been provided. No sheets or bedding, but the temperature was steady in his windowless cell. Between interrogations, a droning white noise sounded nonstop in the room. It was not overly loud, but incessant; after awhile, he felt his bones vibrate with it. A million electronic insects prickled every nerve. The sound put him on edge, likely its intended purpose. He forced himself to remain calm and keep his mind clear to deal with whatever came next.

Heremained resigned to his fate. Justice would be done. He really had just one question. How could his teammates from Atlantis have betrayed him so ?

* * *

_Ronon stretched mightily after his solitary workout with the banta sticks in the Atlantis gym. He rubbed absently at a bruise on his left shoulder, souvenir of his bout with Teyla two days before. Even blindfolded she'd managed to thump him solidly across the back and knock him to the floor. He grunted fondly as he rolled out the soreness. He liked sparring with Teyla. He never had to pull his punches with her. Long years as a warrior and leader of her people left her with the speed and skill to match Ronon the way few of the Milky Way galaxy humans could._

_He hoped she would return from her trading mission for the Athosians soon. Two out of three falls was definitely on the agenda._

_The door to the gym slid open with a quiet sigh to reveal John Shepherd. He hovered in the doorway with an unusual hesitancy, noticed Ronon's curious gaze upon him, and stepped inside. _

_"I thought you were in a briefing with Weir," Ronon said, tossing the banta sticks in the air and catching them expertly behind his back. "I heard you being paged earlier." He grinned at his friend. "You look frustrated. Did Weir get under your skin again? Want to work it out on me?" Ronon tossed one stick suddenly to Shepherd. "Or you could try."_

_Shepherd caught the banta despite his distracted air. "No. I don't want to work out." He turned and put the stick in its slot in the wall. "Ronon, we need to talk."_

_"Sounds serious," Ronon's amusement faded. "What about?"_

_"About a man named Kell." Shepherd took a deep breath and looked his friend in the eye. "And why you killed him."_

* * *

Ronon tried to find a comfortable spot on the smooth but unyielding floor of his cell, shielding his eyes with his arm against the unending glare of the overhead lights. His sleeping mat got thinner all the time and the rations were getting scarcer, but it was still a better class of cell than he had been in the past. He wondered what it said about his life that he was quite the connoisseur of prisons, lockups and dungeons. Nothing good, anyway.

The irritating white noise pumped ceaselessly into the cell hid the soft sigh as the door to the cell slid open, taking Ronon by surprise. He leapt up easily, but held himself there, balancing on the balls of his feet, not wishing to end up unconscious on the floor again for his pains. Not for anything small, anyway.

Two large, professional-looking guards armed with—yes, blasters and thick truncheons both curse it—stepped in and took up station on either side of the door. Ronon controlled his surprise when Hendon, Teyla's trade contact from Belkan, walked into the room. Ronon wished he still had the knife he brandished in the man's face at their last meeting and settled for an evil grin instead. He felt satisfied at the trader's slight step back before Hendon recalled who was the prisoner and who had the muscle men at his beck and call.

* * *

_"Come on Ronon," said Shepherd. "You've got to talk to me. Some guys showed up at the Alpha Site using Tayla's ID claiming you murdered this Kell and howling for your blood. What's going on?"_

_Ronon's stomach clenched. He recalled Teyla's words after he revealed Kell's betrayal to their death of thousands of men on Sateda. She had understood Ronon's actions but had warned him grimly that those on Atlantis would not understand. She said they must never speak of it again. And so they remained silent._

_Ronon gazed steadily at Shepherd. "There's nothing to tell. I met someone I knew long ago. He deserved to die for things he had done. I killed him. End of story."_

_"That's not an explanation." John bristled. "It's a damn fortune cookie." He grabbed Ronon's shoulder. "You kill somebody on an off-world mission and neither you nor Teyla reports it? You're on my team. I'm responsible for what you do. How can I trust you if you won't talk to me?"_

_"It was personal business." Ronon shook off Shepherd's grip. "Teyla said you wouldn't understand and she was right."_

_"I don't know what orifice you have your head up right now or why Teyla would say something so stupid," John said angrily. "But listen to me when I say that Weir is going ballistic over this. She doesn't like being blindsided and neither do I."_

_Ronon continued his stoic silence. John rubbed his hand over his face. "God, what a mess," he said._

_"Ronon, if you don't come up with a better explanation than this," John shook his head. "I'm not going to be able to help you. Those people want to take you back to Belsa to stand trial for the murder of Kell. And Weir is going to let them."_

* * *

Hendon straightened and raised his chin, recovering his nerve in front of the big Satedan. He gestured to one of the guards who removed a set of manacles from his belt and threw them at Ronon's feet.

"Put those on," Hendon demanded, watching Ronon intently.

Ronon didn't move. "Why should I?" he said in his deep voice, as if the answer didn't concern him in the slightest.

"Well, we could just stun you and put on the chains anyway," Hendon sneered. "But I thought a soldier such as yourself would want to stay conscious and in control—such as it is—as much as possible."

Damn, he was right about that. Hendon might be smarter than he looked. Better keep him talking until this began to make more sense, although Ronon would prefer to wipe that smug smile off his face.

Ronon knelt down and made a show of examining the restraints. They looked straightforward and strong and very effective. Great.

"What are you doing on Belsa, Hendon?" Ronon asked. "What does all this have to do with you?"

"What does it have to do with me?" Hendon hissed, his voice rising. "You and Teyla came to Belkan under my protection and murdered my most powerful trading partner."

He has a point, Ronon thought.

"By Belkan custom, Kell's family was entitled to _vira_, a death geld, from me. And they knew it! The Trade Council on Belkan awarded them damages worth ten years' of my profits." Hendon snarled. "Your little revenge drama ruined me!"

One of the guards stepped forward with his truncheon raised to encourage Ronon to hurry with the restraints. Ronon's hand shot up to stop the downward trajectory of the club. He forced the guard back and swiftly used the man's own momentum against him, pinning him to the wall with his arm twisted up high behind, plucking the weapon from nerveless fingers and throwing it to the ground. He knocked the guard's head against the wall twice in quick succession and grabbed for the man's stunner from its holster_._

He knew the other guard would recover from his surprise soon. He just didn't realize how soon_._

He whirled with the stunner already firing and caught the rapidly approaching guard in its nimbus but the guard was big. Really big. The guard's dead weight carried him forward, straight into Ronon's weapon hand, sending the stunner arcing wildly in the air. Ronon lunged for it uselessly, knowing it was beyond reach_._

His instinctive move saved his life as an energy weapon singed his neck and sparkled lethally against the cell door. He rolled out of his dive and rose warily to his knees.

Hendon stood just where he had when this all started, now wild eyed and breathless. A small but fully charged blaster wavered in his hand. It was not set on stun.

"Put on the damn restraints," Hendon rasped, gesturing with the pistol. "You and I have unfinished business."

* * *

_John insisted that Ronon accompany him back to Weir's office. By the time they arrived in the gateroom, Ronon saw Elizabeth greeting four men dressed as Belsan traders. One of them had been Kell's bodyguard. Two of the men were older, standing stiffly in front of Weir as if they disapproved of her in some way. _

_The last trader, younger than the others, brought Ronon to a halt. He had been just a frightened boy when Ronon last saw him, heading to a shelter with other elite refugees. Ronon remembered his name was Koda. _

_He was Kell's son._


End file.
